


My Little Bluebird

by durotos



Category: Harvest Moon, Harvest Moon: Friends of Mineral Town
Genre: F/M, Family, Hurt/Comfort, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-24
Updated: 2020-05-24
Packaged: 2021-03-03 06:53:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24346813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/durotos/pseuds/durotos
Summary: "The young man stopped walking, taking a moment to let it soak in. The last time he had been here, the snow was slowly falling, but he had been numb to the chill. The sky had seemed darker, and the wind had been harsher. His cheeks had been raw from the tears streaming down his face, and his throat was sore from sobbing uncontrollably." Cliff brings Claire back to his hometown.
Relationships: Claire the Farmer/Cliff (Harvest Moon)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 25





	My Little Bluebird

The dappled sunlight shone through the cedar trees as Claire tucked a loose strand of blonde hair behind her ear. The wind was active that day, causing dried leaves from the previous autumn to dance along the beaten earth.

“Ah, the teaberries are in season,” Cliff murmured, his eyes drawn toward the leafy shrubs lining the path. He crouched down, picking a few and cupping them in his hand.

“Do they taste like tea?”

A smile played at his lips as he popped one into his mouth. “Find out yourself.”

She was grateful for the playful glint in his eyes and she hoped it would remain. The young woman opened her mouth for an offering, giddiness rising up in her stomach.

He fumbled with the bright red berries and his fingers affectionately grazed her lips as he popped one into her mouth. She chewed in silence as color crept into both of their faces.

“It’s almost like… mint?”

He gave her a grin and a nod as they continued along the path. “Some people call it wintergreen or checkerberry. My sister and I used to come here and gather them…”

His words weren’t sad the way they used to be when he mentioned her, but Claire became aware of the way his shoulders slumped a bit and his steps became slower. Claire looked ahead and wrapped her arm around his.

None of the graves were elaborate, but that didn’t mean that they weren’t well cared for. Cliff leaned into her a bit for comfort as they walked along, their feet cushioned by the overgrown grass around them.

The young man stopped walking, taking a moment to let it soak in. The last time he had been here, the snow was slowly falling, but he had been numb to the chill. The sky had seemed darker, and the wind had been harsher. His cheeks had been raw from the tears streaming down his face, and his throat was sore from sobbing upon finding the empty house and new grave.

“I-It’s been _years_ …”

The couple stood in silence for a few moments, allowing the cold truth to sink in.

Claire rested her head on his shoulder. “I’m sure they’re glad you came.”

He gave a silent nod in response, his throat tightening.

Sensing he wanted a moment alone, she gave his hand a gentle squeeze and let go, exploring the area a bit. Her footsteps crunched through the old leaves as she shifted the pack on her back. “Are we looking for one headstone, or two?”

“Two side by side. They match.” He led the way toward them; it was impossible for him to forget where they were located.

A pair of simple stones sat together in an unassuming row. They might have blended in to the random passerby, but his eyes had been drawn in by them immediately upon entering the graveyard. He let out a soft sigh, crouching down to trace his fingers over the etched letters on the stone. His fingers brushed away the mottled dirt that had been splattered as mud from previous rains. Claire knelt down beside him, placing a gentle hand on his back.

“I wish they could’ve met you,” he murmured, swallowing the lump in his throat. “I wish… I wish they could see me now and know that… I’m doing alright.”

Claire gave his hand a squeeze. “They’re watching us right now.”

He rested his forehead against hers, closing his eyes. “Thank you.”

A playful breeze blew past them again, and Cliff felt a lump form in his throat as an image of a broad-shouldered man with a bushy beard and long brown braid popped into this mind. He was laughing and smiling, picking up a young Cliff to sit on his shoulders. The young boy squealed with delight, and he leaned forward to rest his chin on the top of his father’s head. He thought of cool autumn nights, beaming with pride as the campfire grew under the kindling. A hearty hand was placed on top of his head, ruffling his hair and congratulating him for a job well done.

He could still hear his mother’s gentle voice, and he could remember the slow rise and fall of her chest at night as the family lie under the covers. Her face was illuminated by the sunlight peeking through the crack in the curtains, and as he nuzzled against her, he could see a slight smile forming on her lips. His eyes would light up from her bedtime stories and songs, and he could still remember burying his face into her skirt as she gently tended to his childhood bumps and scrapes.

Cliff silently removed some loose twigs from the gravesite, and Claire worked alongside him. Dead leaves and old vines were pulled away from the site, revealing green grass, wild violets, and creeping ivy beneath. Claire continued to work on removing the debris as Cliff removed some rags from their packs, dipping them into the stream nearby. He set to work on the stones. If he closed his eyes, he could still see their faces…

His mother’s eyes were large and expressive, defined by slight wrinkles she had accumulated throughout the years. When his father passed, he couldn’t help but notice that a dark set of circles had become a new permanent feature. His eyes had always been laughing, large, and brown. They shone like a pair of polished stones and they glittered when they rested upon his wife.

Cliff’s smile began to twitch. “Ma and Papa… they really loved each other…”

Sensing his pensive mood, Claire gave him a sad smile and didn’t approach him further as he went back to work.

He studied the dates on the gravestones – his father had passed away nearly seven years before his mother.

_Seven years without your love…_

He had seen the forced smiles and tired eyes; Cliff had no doubt his mother had been mourning every day. His gaze turned to Claire and his heart caught in his throat. Their wedding wasn’t far away, but already the thought of losing her had him reeling.

Claire noticed he had stopped polishing the graves. She came back over to him and squatted down beside him, leaning her shoulder into his. It was a tactic they had used on each other for a long time – silent support until the other was ready to talk. He could see her eyes moving from one stone to the other.

“I believe… that they’re together and they’re happy,” Claire murmured. “They’ve been watching over you, and I think they’re proud of how far you’ve come.”

Her eyes and voice were too genuine for him to dismiss it. “They would’ve really liked you.”

Claire’s cheeks were rosy as she nuzzled his shoulder. “I’m sure I’d like them, too. After all, I really like the person they raised. I wonder how they’d feel about being in-laws?”

A playful breeze ruffled their hair and they laughed as they brushed it out of their faces.

Cliff’s heart lightened a bit, and a warm glow of peace settled in his chest. “I think… I… _know_ it would make them very happy.”

An array of bright colors caught her eye. Giving her lover a grin, she hurried over toward the wild plants growing at the border of the graveyard. She immediately began picking handfuls of wild flowers from the undergrowth and returned to him with a breathy chuckle.

“Let’s make them something.”

The veil of sadness around him dissolved as she removed a single Black Eyed Susan from the bundle and tucked it behind his ear, placing a gentle kiss on his cheek. Her smile was carefree. “Pretty.”

He carefully selected one for her and returned the gesture. His lips lingered on her cheek and he whispered into her ear. “Thank you.”

She took his hands in hers and gave them an affectionate squeeze. “You’re always welcome.”

The flower garlands were wild and beautiful. Clusters of herbs nestled among wildflowers and greenery. Cliff thought of his childhood with his sister as he braided the stems. Perhaps she could join them on their next visit here…

Some bright, cheery chirps from a nearby tree caught Cliff’s eye. The song sounded far too upbeat to be sung in a graveyard. A smile played at his lips as he spotted the chubby bluebird on the branch. It was a beautiful creature – it had a soft rosy belly and donned a lovely shade of blue on its wings.

He said nothing, but he had seen that Claire looked up from what she was doing, her hands still full of wildflowers. The breeze played at her golden hair as she stood transfixed on the tree, drawn to the singing as well. 

The bird was the same color of the eyes that watched over him when he while he sat silently in the church. They sparkled at him as they sat side by side on the pier, watching the waves come in. They were doting as she watched him nuzzle her horse. They were wide as he walked her home in the evening and lingered in the doorway, his gaze traveling longingly toward her soft pink lips.

“I once read a story about a bluebird,” Claire murmured, not turning away from the branch. “There once was a woodcutter who left his home in search of his fortune. He traveled across rivers, forests, and meadows to find what he was looking for, but he was lost…”

Cliff watched a smile form on her lips and felt his heart thump.

“He heard the sound of a bluebird calling out to him one morning after a heavy rain. It sat on a branch above him, as if asking him to follow. Desperate to find what he was looking for, he followed it. It flew much faster than he could run, but he noticed that it would fly ahead and wait for him, chirping as if to cheer him on…”

The bird up in the tree looked down at the pair and gave a demonstration, earning delighted laughter from both.

“He followed it to a small clearing in the woods. It was a beautiful, shady area filled with wildflowers and a stream ran through it. He knew at once he had found what he was looking for. Using his woodcutting and carpentry skills, he built himself a small house. He even built a small birdhouse and hung it in a nearby branch. The woodcutter had finally found his happiness – it wasn’t money, it wasn’t fame. It was a place to call home.” She turned around with a grin and her smile faded when she saw the look on her partner’s face. Dropping the weeds in her hands, she leaned in toward him, her face filled with worry. “Is everything okay?”

His eyes locked onto hers. Two vibrant sapphires. He blinked the mistiness out of his eyes and threw his arms around her, resting his chin on top of her golden head. The bright petals of the Black-Eyed Susan in her hair caught his eye, and he remembered the matching one tucked behind his ear. He looked down at their half-finished flower garlands for decorating the graves and held her tighter.

She gazed up at him, awaiting a response to her question.

It hadn’t been an easy transition, moving to Mineral Town. There had been a lot of adjusting to being part of a community again and allowing himself to open his heart once more. However, as he lost himself in her eyes, he knew that he would do it a hundred times over.

He gave a slight nod, the happiness in his heart overflowing. “I think I know exactly how the woodcutter in your story felt.”

**Author's Note:**

> Author’s Note: A very special thank you to Jaronyan for the writing prompt! :)  
> Thank you very much for reading! My parents are both originally from out of state and we would visit my Grandmother and all take a walk up to the graveyard together. My uncle passed away when I was young, and we made it a regular thing to go out to visit the graves. It never really made me sad; he passed away before I really understood the concept of death. I always found the graveyard a serene place, and we’d pick and eat the teaberries that grew along the way. As the years went by and I grew up, moved out, and got married, I wasn’t really available make the usual family trips out to Pennsylvania to see my relatives. I hadn’t visited that graveyard for years until we went this last autumn, burying my grandmother. I don’t know when I will be able to visit that little graveyard out in the middle of nowhere again, but it holds a lot of fond memories.
> 
> Bluebirds symbolize hope and happiness in many cultures. I thought it would show that even in a place where the dead are buried, brightness can still be found. Black-Eyed Susans represent motivation and encouragement; I found it fitting that the characters exchange them in support of one another. This story technically could take place in the universe of The Shy Newcomer, but it can most definitely be read as a standalone piece.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed! I wanted to write something to bring a sense of peace and hope, especially right now. Please stay safe and healthy!


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